This week in Party Crasher, I crash a party thrown by people who work at some of the best restaurants in town:
Someone insists that I eat a little puff pastry called a “ferret pie,” which I do, and which tastes delightfully like turkey (later, someone corrects me: It’s pheasant). There are also succulent venison meatballs and yummy cheese-‘n’-broccoli tarts.
Someone in the kitchen is mixing the best whiskey sours in the world. Other people are discussing the thematic elements of Bambi, which include posters of Grace Jones everywhere and a real severed deer hoof with a telephone cord sticking out of it.
There’s more, including karaoke and a certain drunk someone kinda-sorta sexually assaulting me, over in the music section.